Ringing out the old year and ringing in the new

Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s very popular poem Ring Out, Wild Bells describes a ritual in which the bells in English parish churches are rung at midnight on New Year’s Eve to mark the departure of the old year and the arrival of the new one. 

It is a way of saying both ‘good riddance’ and ‘welcome’!

The words speak for themselves; I find them inspiring but also depressing: new beginnings seem possible, but the golden age he wished for is still not here after 170 years. 

Ring Out, Wild Bells was first published in 1850, the year Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate. It forms part of his elegy In Memoriam.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

This poem is in the public domain and can be found online in many places, including Project Gutenberg.

The poem and the poet:

Public libraries past

This is the time of year when people take stock and look both backwards and forwards. This makes it an appropriate occasion to publish articles about the past history of and future prospects for public libraries.

After realising retrospectively how fortunate I was to have had so much good-quality free reading material, I went on to think about the people of the past and wonder what they had in the way of public libraries. 

There is a lot of information about the libraries of the past available online. I now know that the public libraries I used were preceded first by libraries that charged their members then later by free libraries that were established by Victorian social reformers primarily for the improvement of the working classes. 

Predecessors of public libraries
As books were an expensive luxury, for many centuries only people at the higher levels of society had their own private libraries. 

Ecclesiastical, vocational, social and educational establishments also had collections of books, semi-private libraries that only selected people had access to.

Circulating libraries, or lending libraries, were established in the 18th century. It was just the books that circulated: these were not mobile or travelling libraries! 

John Masefield’s Box of Delights & Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather

This time last year, John Masefield’s Box of Delights was featured.  The story ends on Christmas Eve, which makes it very suitable reading for the holiday season.

Now it is the turn of Terry Pratchett’s festive fairytale Hogfather (1996). 

The Hogfather is a Discworld character. He is similar to Father Christmas: he is a mythical fat and jolly bearded man who wears red and white and brings presents for the good children of Discworld on Hogswatchnight (December 32nd). He travels by sleigh; it is drawn by pigs rather than reindeer though. 

Although some readers say that Hogfather is Terry Pratchett’s best book, it is not at the top of my list: that place is occupied by his books about the Discworld witches!

There is not much in Hogfather that inspires commentary, however I noticed some interesting similarities and common themes and elements in these two very different seasonal stories and decided to list a few of them.

A few common features
A big metaphysical battle is a major theme in both books.

In The Box of Delights the battle is between good and evil; in Hogfather it is between rationality and belief. It is about logic and rules versus magic and mythology.

More about Diana Wynne Jones and her book deprivation

Some writers have very interesting things to say about books, reading and writing. I like it even more when they mention public libraries too!

Diana Wynne Jones is yet another writer whose thoughts on these topics have inspired some commentary. 

I have something to add to the previous article about the dire shortage of reading material that she experienced as a child.

I said earlier that thanks to public libraries I didn’t miss much in the way of good books when I was growing up. I am very grateful for that. I feel very sorry for imaginative children with enquiring minds who were forced to subsist on a diet of crumbs of reading material.

Diana Wynne Jones is a little ambivalent on the subject. After reading about the perpetual book famine and the desperate begging, saving and scrounging, I was surprised to see that she said that perhaps it was all for the best in some ways.

Diana Wynne Jones and the shortage of reading material

Diana Wynne Jones is yet another writer who was a voracious reader as a child. Unfortunately, she never had nearly enough books to satisfy her appetite for reading material. As she put it, she suffered from a perpetual book famine.

Her book Reflections: On the Magic of Writing contains some interesting - although very painful to read - autobiographical material; it was the source of an amusing anecdote, and it also provides some information about the vital part that books and reading played in her early life.

A few extracts will show what she was up against when trying to obtain more books to read. 

A starvation diet of books
Diana Wynne Jones’s father was stingy and tight-fisted in the extreme: 

“...birthdays were the one occasion when my father could be persuaded to buy books. By begging very hard, I got Puck of Pook’s Hill when I was ten and Greenmantle when I was twelve. But my father was inordinately mean about money. He solved the Christmas book-giving by buying an entire set of Arthur Ransome books, which he kept locked in a high cupboard and dispensed one between the three of us each year.”

So she too liked Rudyard Kipling and John Buchan! 

I would have felt very short-changed indeed if all I was given for Christmas was one Arthur Ransome book - and he is not one of my favourite authors anyway!

In praise of public libraries

The previous article mentions the great debt owed by writers Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman to the public libraries that they used as children. 

They are not alone. Public libraries helped to make me what I am today. I briefly mentioned the key role that they played in my early life here; the above endorsements have inspired me to cover the subject in more detail.

Libraries in my early life
Going to the library was a major part of life when I was growing up - just as going to school and going to the sweet shop were! 

I did have some books of my own and I used the school libraries, but this was not nearly enough for me: I always wanted more and better reading material.

I lived 'by chance' close to some very big public libraries as a child. I know that small buildings appear large to small children, but I revisited some of them and found them just as imposing now as they were then.

They gave me a never-ending supply of high quality books. Just like Neil Gaiman, I was given access to the adult section; this was because I had exhausted the children’s fiction and wanted something more challenging. 

I saw libraries as treasure troves; the books on the shelves offered me escape, distraction, education and entertainment. They helped to fill some gaps in my life and gave me things I couldn’t get in the real world. They gave me far more information than I was getting at school or from the people in my life.

The great and positive influence of public libraries

This article was inspired by a quotation from Terry Pratchett that I found recently. He said this in his introduction to Dragons at Crumbling Castle: And Other Stories:

“... I taught myself how to write by reading as many books as I could carry home from the library.“

Many people do indeed learn to write by extensive reading, although obviously not all voracious readers go on to become published writers. Who knows what wonderful works might never have existed if their authors had not had access to large numbers of good-quality library books!

By coincidence, Neil Gaiman, who wrote the comedy novel Good Omens jointly with Terry Pratchett, was another great reader of library books. I found an interesting article in which he speaks about reading, literacy, fiction, the imagination and the function of libraries in general. 

A last look at Joyce Collin-Smith’s Call No Man Master

This is the final article in the series inspired by Joyce Collin-Smith’s autobiographical work Call No Man Master (1988).  

In this book she describes her 50-year search for a genuine guru, a real spiritual master. She didn’t find one, but she encountered many unusual people of various religions and disciplines and learned a lot along the way.

This article highlights some remaining material of particular interest. There is a little more to say about cults and the damage that they do to their members, about the Maharishi Yogi and about the feeling of being alien to this world.

As I have described in one of the basic cult articles, anyone who gets involved with one is in danger of being left stranded. They may also have been encouraged to burn their bridges behind them, which gets them into double trouble.

There are some examples of this in Call No Man Master. 

The summaries of what Joyce Collin-Smith tells us speak for themselves.

Joyce Collin-Smith: imagination, alienation, and an imaginary friend

Novelist and journalist Joyce Collin-Smith’s autobiographical work Call No Man Master has inspired many articles to date, and there is still a little more miscellaneous material of particular interest to come. 

This article covers some of the attributes that Joyce Collin-Smith had in common with other writers mentioned on here.

The articles about Stella Benson’s imagination and imaginary friends spell out what life is like for someone who is very good with words, has a very vivid imagination and feels alienated from the real world.

Joyce Collin-Smith is another example of such people.

Joyce Collin-Smith’s childhood
There are some very familiar elements here.

Joyce Collin-Smith tells us that she was a thin, ailing, solitary, excessively shy and nervous child. Fearing rebuffs or incomprehension if she voiced her thoughts, she busied herself with private activities, including writing or imagining stories.

L. M. Montgomery on Rudyard Kipling and writing to order

It came as no great surprise to learn recently that L. M. Montgomery was familiar with the works of Rudyard Kipling: as mentioned in previous articles, she was a great reader. 

What was unexpected was that she singled out Kipling’s Barrack Room Ballads for special praise - perhaps this was because she was given the poems as a Christmas present. 

Her actual words about the poems surprised me too:

“They are capital — full of virile strength and life. They thrill and pulsate and burn, they carry you along in their rush and swing, till you forget your own petty interests and cares, and burst out into a broader soul-world and gain a much clearer realization of all the myriad forms of life that are beating around your own little one. And this is good for a person even if one does slip back afterwards into the narrow bounds of one’s own life. We can never be quite so narrow again.”

From The Complete Journals of L. M. Montgomery: The PEI Years, 1900-1911

I certainly know what it is like to be thrilled and taken out of myself and swept into another, wider, world by certain poems, Rudyard Kipling’s in particular, but the Barrack Room Ballads are not among them. They have on the whole a negative effect.

This enthusiasm was so surprising that I went to Project Gutenberg to refresh my memory of the Ballads in the hope of understanding why L. M. Montgomery felt this way about them.

Witches’ pictures for Halloween

Today is Halloween, a time when witches are abroad.

It is a good time to remember Terry Pratchett, who made a great contribution, both entertaining and informational, to witch lore. There are many quotations from his works on here, and there are still more to come.

Here we have a memorable quotation from Wintersmith:

L. M. Montgomery on the value of words

I knew almost nothing about L. M. Montgomery at the time I produced the article about the value of words. I had always assumed that there would be very little of interest and relevance to this blog in her life and works. I couldn’t have been more wrong!

I eventually got around to reading some of her books and letters, and found a lot to comment on.

She wrote a letter in which she says much the same as I did about the lack of respect for words; it supports what she said in another letter about talking to non-creative people:

"I’ve done a lot of "gadding" this summer, and it was really a horrible waste of time because there was no pleasure in it. Had there been, I’d have considered it a very wise use of time. I had to go out to tea and attend garden parties galore and I was generally bored to death, especially when people thought themselves bound to say something about my book. They all say practically the same thing and I say the same thing in reply and I’m tired of it. Then I talked gossip and made poor jokes and altogether wished I were home in my den with a book or a pen.” 

Many other creative people feel the same way, and have, quite independently, said as much. 

‘Englich’ lessons for Napoleon Bonaparte

As mentioned in the previous article, Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled to the remote island of St. Helena in the south Atlantic.

His capture after the Battle of Waterloo had raised the question of what to do with him. He would always be a focus for trouble if he stayed in Europe. For a while he hoped that he could escape to or would be sent to America but, just like his application for asylum in the UK, this came to nothing. 

Napoleon had to come to terms with living in exile in a very inhospitable place and find ways to pass the time. 

I was surprised to learn recently that one thing he did was to take English lessons. There is information available online about this episode in the former French Emperor’s life; I have selected aspects that I find particularly interesting and amusing, including some examples of his writing.

Napoleon put a lot of effort into learning English in the early days of his exile on St. Helena. He would have done this for several reasons.

Napoleon Bonaparte and the crumbs of hope

Napoleon Bonaparte must be one of the most written-about people on the planet. However, although he got a brief mention in an article about Benjamin Disraeli, who was a great admirer of his, I would not have expected that he would ever be the subject of an article on here.

I was reading about Napoleon recently while creating posts for the Alternaticity Project Forum, and I unexpectedly came across some material of interest. 

I was surprised to learn that after his final defeat, Napoleon had wanted to come and live in the UK. In exile, he even learned some ‘Englich’ in preparation for the life that he still hoped to have. 

He pinned his hopes on various members of the royal family in turn, only to be disappointed. He may even have lost the will to live when he realised that he would never return to Europe.

I never thought that I would have anything at all in common with Napoleon, but there are some familiar elements in a few of his letters. I know what it is like to live for some years on crumbs of hope, clutching at straws and desperately casting around for possibilities in the form of anything or anyone that might help to provide a way out of an unacceptable situation. 

Wishful thinking predominates, and ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ become major preoccupations. 

Living in such suspense is very painful; it is even worse when the last crumb of hope disappears.

Hope, the loss of hope and the absence of hope are major unseen influences in some people’s lives.

Violet Needham, Pandora, and Mr Papadopoulis

Violet Needham wrote some high-quality books for children. They were published between the years 1939 and 1957. 

Apart from a brief mention in the article about Anthony Hope, whose fictional country Ruritania may well have inspired her fictional Empire and surrounding countries, Violet Needham has not previously been featured on here.

Some of her books, the Stormy Petrel stories in particular, are full of exciting and romantic adventures in glamorous settings and some even have supernatural elements, but most of them are not relevant to this blog. 

While working on articles about John Buchan's books, I was reminded of some characters and scenes from one of Violet Needham’s books. I decided to take another look at Pandora of Parrham Royal (1951), which I last read many years ago. 

I bought a copy online and found the material that I vaguely remembered. In the light of what I have since learned about unseen influences, it seems much more significant now than it did at the time. 

Pandora of Parrham Royal may not be one of Violet Needham’s best books when it comes to the characters and storyline - I much prefer the Stormy Petrel series - but it has inspired an article because it has some elements in common with John Buchan's books and it provides yet another example of someone who uses occult powers to get what they want.

More magic and witch wisdom from Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett’s comic fantasy novels about the Discworld are a gold mine when it comes to definitions of and ideas about magic and witches.

The points he makes and the warnings he gives have a much wider application than just to his imaginary world and characters. 

What he says is not always what some people expect or want to hear, but it is all worth considering and putting to the test. 

Material from his books has appeared in several articles, and I have found a few more wise words to quote. 

Using magic
Miss Tick gives more lessons to the young witch Tiffany Aching:

“’But can’t you use a keeping-warm spell?’ said Tiffany.

‘I could. But a witch doesn’t do that sort of thing. Once you use magic to keep yourself warm, then you’ll start using it for other things.’

‘But isn’t that what a witch is supposed to--‘ Tiffany began.

‘Once you learn about magic, I mean really learn about magic, learn everything you can learn about magic, then you’ve got the most important lesson still to learn,’ said Miss Tick.

‘What’s that?’

‘Not to use it. Witches don’t use magic unless they really have to. It’s hard work and difficult to control. We do other things.’”

This is not an easy lesson to learn. It may not at first make sense; it may not be acceptable. Despite that, a wise person will take it to heart. The senior witches in Terry Pratchett’s books know what they are talking about.

More about Rudyard Kipling’s Daemon

There is a little more Daemon-related material of interest in Rudyard Kipling’s autobiographical work Something of Myself.

His anecdotes provide some recommendations and guidance that other writers might find useful.

Give the Daemon the tools it wants
When it comes to writing, the best approach is to use tools and materials that attract and encourage the Daemon and avoid anything that the inner companion says it dislikes.

Kipling’s Daemon had a strong preference for deep black ink:

“For my ink I demanded the blackest, and had I been in my Father's house, as once I was, would have kept an ink-boy to grind me Indian-ink. All 'blue-blacks' were an abomination to my Daemon...”

It is strange what a big difference these little things make. It is definitely good practice to humour whatever it is that makes the ideas flow. It is merely a matter of doing what feels right; it is easy to sense when the Daemon is comfortable and when not.

Do your share of the work
One thing the writer can do that the Daemon can not is to research and check some basic information. Not only does this improve the quality of the work and the authority of the writer, getting started may attract the attention of the Daemon and encourage it to make its own contribution.

In Rudyard Kipling’s own words:

“In respect to verifying one's references, which is a matter in which one can help one's Daemon. Take nothing for granted if you can check it. Even though that seem waste-work, and has nothing to do with the essentials of things, it encourages the Daemon. There are always men who by trade or calling know the fact or the inference that you put forth. If you are wrong by a hair in this, they argue 'False in one thing, false in all.' Having sinned, I know. Likewise, never play down to your public--not because some of them do not deserve it, but because it is bad for your hand.”

Rudyard Kipling and his Daemon

This article was inspired by a short anecdote in Rudyard Kipling’s autobiographical work Something of Myself (1937).

This is where he tells us about his Daemon, a kind of personal muse who he says inspired his writing. He tells us some very interesting and significant things about this supernatural being.

The inspirational anecdote in summary is that a man told Kipling a horror story that he said was a personal experience. Kipling wrote it up but something stopped him from sending it to a publisher. He was really glad about this when, ‘by chance’, he found the story, identical in every way, in an old magazine. He gives credit to his Daemon for preventing a charge of plagiarism, which would not be good for such a famous writer’s reputation and would have been very stressful for him.

This may sound far-fetched, but other people have had similar experiences although they may not attribute helpful inner promptings and warnings to a daemon but, for example, to Providence, the Universe or their subconscious minds. I have given examples of such positive inner guidance in various articles.

Ten years of blogging and still going strong

The first article in the archives of this blog is dated September 9th 2009, the ninth day of the ninth month of the ninth year of the century.

Nine is an important number in Norse mythology; it is associated with magic and Odin, or Woden, the seeker after knowledge and wisdom who is associated with magic and mystery.

By coincidence, September 9th 2009 was a Wednesday! 

This date was not a deliberate choice at the time. I spent a few days setting up the infrastructure and creating some content, and the day I was ready to launch the blog and publish the first article just happened to be a significant date. 

Although it was accidental, the Odin connection is actually very appropriate.

I started the Unseen Influences blog mainly for my own benefit. I wanted to log unusual experiences and strange coincidences and make a record of my ideas about a variety of topics. I wanted to produce the sort of interesting, inspiring, illuminating and useful material that I like to read. 

Researching, making connections and getting things down in writing all have a beneficial effect so, just like L. M. Montgomery’s Emily, I would still do them even if no one ever saw the results.

I knew that a huge majority of people would not find anything of interest to them in my articles and wouldn’t much care for the style of writing either, but I did hope however that a few people, proactive researchers with a mindset, interests and outlook similar to mine and people who have had similar experiences with unseen influences, might find the ideas, insights, information, and suggestions on here helpful. 

I also thought that the articles might introduce a few people to books, authors and ideas that they might otherwise have overlooked.

I started the proceedings by producing an explanation of the background to and purpose of the Unseen Influences blog; this entry appears on every page.

The first article is an introduction to the way that Unseen forces can affect our lives.

Ten years have passed and the blog is still going strong. 

I have had many more readers than I ever expected. 

People from all over the world are finding their way here, and I don’t think that they are all bots! For some reason, there are more readers from the US and Germany than there are from the UK.

I have even had some visits from a plagiarism scanner, so perhaps someone is copying my content!

There are gaps in the earlier years for times when I was very busy elsewhere, but output has increased in recent years and there is still no end in sight. 

I would certainly stop, for the duration at least, if I had no inclination to write or no inspiration or ideas for articles, but there is no sign of that yet. The opposite is true - at least for now - in that the more articles I produce the more ideas I get for new ones.

So, there may be more to come about energy vampires, witches, writers, books that I like, cults, psychological black magic, amazing coincidences and anything else that inspires commentary. 

There are still many connections to be made and independent confirmation of my ideas to be discovered and described.

In addition, there are the forum posts. They provide yet another outlet for the inclination to write and are a good way to keep research and composition skills honed.

Although the Conservative Conspiracy Forum no longer exists, I frequently post, usually on topics not relevant to this blog, as UnseenI on the Alternaticity Forum.

Cults: an overview of the main articles to date

As my articles about cults are attracting a respectable number of readers, I thought that, while this blog does have Labels and a Search facility, a summary of the main cult-related articles to date together with some links might be useful.

I intend to keep this article updated with links to any new cult articles of significance.

I noticed retrospectively that many of the articles can be grouped according to their main cult-related theme; this is how they are referenced here.

Attributes of cult members

Most important are the basic informational articles. These give general warnings about what to expect when dealing with cult members. For example:

They will lie to you and may leave you stranded.

Their ‘friendship’ will be conditional and could end at any time.

They will sooner or later behave as if you are theirs to command.

They will expect more and more from people and give less and less in return. 

Their values may be inverted.

Independent and analytical thinking is discouraged, so discussions with cult members can be frustrating as they just mindlessly repeat robotic slogans and the official party line. Their access to reading material may be restricted, so discussions may also be difficult and unrewarding because of their ignorance. 

The cutting of connections by cult members is a topic that has generated a four-part article. 

In addition to all that, be prepared to deal with the sole supplier syndrome,

the unpleasant and unjustified superiority syndrome and, worst of all, the dreaded attack-dog syndrome!

Never forget that, as Alexander Herzen said, they will commit all kinds of crimes in the name of their cause.

And never forget either that they are all in on it!

Writers: three views from L. M. Montgomery

Previous articles have covered some of L.M. Montgomery’s thoughts about reading and writing.

Her short story The Waking of Helen (1901) is a depressing account of a doomed girl. It is of interest because it contains a good summary of three possible ways of looking at well-known writers.

We can view them as elite, fortunate and noble people who are far above the masses; we can respect, admire, even worship them for their achievements and envy them for their position, popularity and the immortality of their names.

We can view them with disappointment, disillusionment, disapproval and disgust when we become aware of their real characters and read about some of the appalling things that they believed, said and did.

We can feel sadness and pity for their unhappy lives when we learn what they had to endure and realise that for them, fame and fortune were no compensation for what they lost or never had.

These ways of looking at writers are not mutually exclusive.

Here are some relevant extracts from the story:

100 years of John Buchan’s Mr Standfast

This day, August 26th, is John Buchan’s birthday. This article marks the 144th anniversary of his birth.

This year, 2019, is the 100th anniversary of the first publication of John Buchan’s spy thriller Mr Standfast.  

Mr Standfast is the third book in the series of five Richard Hannay adventures; it follows Greenmantle and precedes The Three Hostages.

I think of Greenmantle and The Three Hostages as being the best of the Richard Hannay books; I find Mr Standfast and The Island of Sheep the least enjoyable to read; I put The Thirty-Nine Steps in the middle of the two groups.

The main problem with Mr Standfast is the effect that it doesn’t have. I find it less enthralling than other books in the series. To me, Mr Standfast is more of the same; it is The Thirty-Nine Steps with World War I scenes added.

Although most of the small amount of inspirational material that Mr Standfast contains has already appeared in two previous articles, there is still a little more to say about the book. I want to highlight a few quotations and scenes that I particularly like.

Lost in Fairyland: Kenneth Grahame and J. M. Barrie

This article is a short addition to the recent one about Fairyland, in which mention is made in general terms of people who remain stuck in Fairyland and never grow up.

This topic was inspired by Terry Pratchett’s amusing fantasy novel The Wee Free Men. The chapter in which the young witch Tiffany Aching meets two boys who are trapped in Fairyland is called Lost Boys.

This reminds me of J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan and the Llewelyn Davies boys. J. M. Barrie and the Lost Boys: The Real Story Behind Peter Pan is the title of a book by Andrew Birkin.

Kenneth Grahame is the second specific example of an eternal boy that comes immediately to mind.

Barrie and Grahame immortalised their names, created magical worlds and enhanced the lives of millions with their works, but all was not well behind the scenes and below the surface.

A final warning from Strindberg’s Inferno

This is the final article in the series that was originally inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to Swedish playwright August Strindberg, his string of misfortunes and his autobiographical novel Inferno.

If there is one message to be taken from Inferno, it is a warning against habitually dealing with people and getting through life by using occult as opposed to natural methods. This article has something to say about the two ways of operating.

It is not just a matter of ethics; the backfiring feature and the long-term detrimental effects on the occult practitioners and their lives are also very relevant.

As has been mentioned previously, Strindberg regretted frivolously playing with hidden forces and warned people against doing the same. He said:

“Above all things, beware of occultism, that caricature of science.”

This article summarises some of the consequences to Strindberg of playing with fire in this way.

Inner torment and outer disaster

Strindberg endured much inner distress during his life. He also experienced many misfortunes and some major disasters. Not all of this was inevitable; he brought some of it on himself by attracting malign influences into his life.

While only a few of Strindberg’s long string of misfortunes can be directly attributed to his attempt to make his little girl ill by the use of black magic, many of the unpleasant things that happened to, through and around him are likely to be directly or ultimately connected to the abuse of occult powers on various occasions by him and some of the people in his life. As for his inner state, while some of his suffering was innate his occult practices made it much worse.